


Can You Hear My Cries Beyond Yours?

by literaryempress



Series: My Ask Box Corner [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Advice, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian, Boyfriends, Break Up, Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fix-It, Getting Back Together, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Men Crying, Mental Institutions, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Past Relationship(s), Post-Season/Series 05, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Relationship Advice, Relationship Problems, Relationship(s), Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original Prompt: <em>I'm such a huge fan of Gallavich fics! Your series of Issac&Max is so endearing!! Would you do me the favour of writing this prompt? So basically Ian met another bipolar patient and his partner. He listened to how they dealt with being diagnosed with bipolar and relationship. For the first time Ian realised Mickey was the victim of emotional abuse instead of himself. He tried to make up to Mickey for shutting him out and pushing him away but found that Mickey was more broken than he thought...</em></p><p>Post 5x12. Ian's world has been crashing down ever since he's been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. However, during his second stay in the psych ward, he realizes that he's not the only one who's been hurting for the past few months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can You Hear My Cries Beyond Yours?

Ian has been in the psych ward for the past five days, and he absolutely hates it here. The staff wasn’t doing a very good job with the heating inside all of the rooms, and the only thing Ian had to warm his body was a rather thin bed sheet that he was given when he was first admitted. Great.

He’s been here before. He’ll never forget that day, as much as he wanted to. Ian was experiencing an episode of his bipolar disorder. At the time, it didn’t even feel like he was doing anything wrong. His life felt perfect. He had everything he possibly wanted: a boyfriend, a family, a sense of excitement – well, he thought anyway.

Back then, before he was sent to the psych ward for the first time, Ian felt ecstatic about everything. As he stated once before, he’s a completely different person. To those around him, though, it was unusual. Ian didn’t understand it. What was wrong about being excited and refreshed for one damn day? Why would his family make that big of a deal because he supposedly wanted to go to certain lengths to get his boyfriend some money for the house? What the hell was the big deal with everyone when he wanted to send his boyfriend’s kid to Florida? Ian was there before; what’s so bad about it?

“Gallagher! Time for vitals.” A man’s deep voice boomed throughout the room. Ian didn’t want to leave the room; he was comfortable here. He had better thoughts when he was asleep, his dreams swimming through his mind.

Well, not necessarily better, but some of the dreams he had distracted him from the reality he was exposed to.

Ian started to crawl out of the bed, throwing on his shoes before he followed the guard out of the room. He also preferred to stay in his room so he wouldn’t have to encounter the other patients in the ward. Some of them were pretty strange, like they were given thousands of drugs or injections that turned them crazy. That’s the one thing Ian hated the most about being here. People on the outside would see him as some kind of nutcase if he were caught dead with people like this.

The guard led Ian to the reception desk where a lady was handing out everyone’s medicine. Ian wasn’t confident that half of those even worked on the patients. From the look of that one twenty-year-old guy banging her head against the wall, it seemed as though these pills worsened their behaviors.

One of the doctors sat down at a chair by a large table, patting down an empty seat for Ian to sit in. “Ian Gallagher,” she called, and Ian blindly joined her at the table, watching as she wrapped his arm with a blood pressure wrap. The last time Ian got his blood pressure recorded, the device tightened his upper arm so much, yet it barely had an impact on him. Any and all feeling Ian had after the first time he was admitted into the psych ward was washed away, and Ian was never going to see the end of it.

As the doctor recorded his blood pressure and took his temperature, Ian observed the space around him. Two men had to sleep in cots outside of their rooms because they were apparently dangerous to themselves and others. To Ian, they weren’t given the privacy they really needed. Hell, what if one of them wanted to jerk themselves off to whatever the fuck, but the guards were watching them from down the hall? What if they wanted to actually feel like they’re not being stalked as they slept?

“All done,” the doctor announced, cleaning the electronic thermometer and putting her blood pressure wrap away. Ian stood up out of his seat, contemplating his next move. Now he was too awake to head on back to sleep, so he decided on heading to the recreation area to take his mind off things.

One of the tables in the rec room hosted about seven patients who were having some kind of checkers match that Ian wasn’t interested in. Other patients were either watching the television up in the corner of the room, looking outside the windows aimlessly, or drawing in one of the coloring books that were set up on the tables. None of this stuff fascinated Ian one bit, no matter how many times the doctors convinced him that they would.

So Ian settled with sitting down on one of the couches. Right next to him, a boy a couple of years younger than Ian was scribbling something in a composition notebook. The moment Ian’s eyes fell upon dark scratches and _my mom has to die_ at the corner of the page, his comfort levels seemed to have left the building completely.

“Ignore him,” someone whispered in his ear after the five seconds of frowning at the boy’s drawings. “It’s better if you didn’t stare too closely at his artwork. He almost burned his brother to death.”

Ian’s head whirled around and noticed an older guy sitting next to him, his frown stuck on his face. “What?”

The brunet in front of him nodded. “Anger issues.” That made a lot more sense.

Ian calmed down only for a little bit, but he still tried to distance himself away from the patient as best as he could. He turned his head back towards the brunet and asked, “and why are you here?”

The brunet shrugged. “Bipolar two.”

Somewhere inside, Ian somewhat expected that to happen. After all, he’s fucked up his relationships with people on the outside after the bipolar shit destroyed his life; he might as well meet someone else who’s as fucked for life as he is.

“Let me guess,” the brunet spoke again, “you’re bipolar, too?”

Ian nodded. “Bipolar one,” he started to recite the diagnosis he was given after he was first admitted. “ _Acute mania with psychotic features_.” The other man scoffed. Ian couldn’t agree anymore. He hated how people used fancy words to describe what a disgrace to humanity he was. It wasn’t fair.

“I didn’t even know I had it at first,” the brunet started, leaning his head back some and staring at the ceiling. “I thought I just needed some space one day to clear my head of some things.” Ian turned his body a little more and paid more attention to his story. “I didn’t even feel anything, really, but my boyfriend assumed there was something wrong with me.”

The brunet paused to lift his head back up and look around the room. His eyes eventually fell upon a blonde guy outside of the rec room at the vitals station. “There he is.” Ian followed his gaze until he spotted a sleepy man in his twenties with bags underneath his eyes and a bandage on his wrist.

“Why is he here?”

“He was cutting himself.” Ian turned his head back around, his face falling at the long look the brunet gave his boyfriend. “Some time ago, I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore,” he continued, “but that was during one of my episodes. The funny thing is that I don’t even remember saying it to him. I don’t have a good memory of many things.”

Ian bit his bottom lip as he watched the man before him run a hand over his face. “Truth be told, this is the fifth relationship I’ve ever gotten myself in. The first three weren’t even that serious. After the fourth one, I accepted myself as a pansexual guy; I don’t really give a shit where my dick goes, but I’m getting aroused either way, you know?” Ian nodded.

Before the brunet could continue, the blonde man at the vitals table entered the rec room and joined the two men at the couch. “Walter.”

“Ulysses.”

Ian looked between the two men and sighed. They seemed to be in somewhat better shape that he and Mickey are in right now. Hell, did he and Mickey even have a shape right now? Did they have anything?

Ulysses sat down on Walter’s right side of the couch and leaned forward to get a better look at Ian. “Who’s the Calvin Klein model?” Ian was taken aback by the compliment for a moment that he almost didn’t answer his question.

“Ian Gallagher.”

“Ulysses Wentworth.” Ian nodded once again, and Ulysses turned his head towards his boyfriend. “The hell are you talking about over here.”

“Bipolar shit.” Ulysses nodded, his eyes falling down to the floor for a moment.

Ian watched as Ulysses reached a hand up to scratch the top of Walter’s head, messing up his dark brown hair some. Both Walter and Ulysses looked physically and emotionally down, yet they seemed to have some kind of understanding of each other. Ian wasn’t a psychiatrist or a love doctor or anything, but he could sense it.

“You take your medicine and shit today?” Ulysses asked Walter.

Walter nodded, his eyes stuck on his lap. “Yeah.” He paused. “The water tastes like shit, though.” The two men started to chuckle. “You know that tap water that tastes like it came out of a sewer and shit?”

Suddenly Ian started to feel alone in the conversation. He hated being a third wheel to other people. He could faintly remember a time when he went out one night with Lip and Mandy. There was a high school party in the suburbs somewhere, and halfway through it, Lip and Mandy had gone off somewhere to senselessly fuck their brains out.

The couple turned their heads back in Ian’s direction. “Something on your mind, Gallagher?” Ulysses asked him. Mickey used to be the only one who called him Gallagher. Now every time someone else called him Gallagher, it only brought back memories of the man Ian left behind.

Ian’s eyes fell to his lap again, pinching the fabric of his pants for a moment before direction his attention towards Walter. “How did you guys do it?” The two men both frowned. “The relationship thing, I meant.”

Ulysses chuckled. “The fuck you mean _how did we do it_?” he asked. “This isn’t Sims where you need fancy codes to get money and shit, man.”

“No, not like that,” Ian stated, stifling a laugh at the analogy Ulysses provided. “I meant…” Ian paused again. “Well, how are you able to keep it up after…you know…” He gestured his hand towards Walter, and that’s when the brunet started to get the point.

“It’s a little harder than it looks,” Walter started with a shrug. Ian nodded. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but it was better than nothing. “We’ve been here for a while, and our relationship problems are still kind of fresh, so I’m not sure if we’re the right people to ask.”

Ian chuckled. “It’s cool, man. I’m pretty much interested in anyone’s advice, at this point.”

“You broke someone’s heart or something over there?” Ulysses guessed.

Yes. “No.”

“You sure?”

Ian shrugged for a moment, slapping his hands against his legs in frustration. “I don’t even know,” he admitted. He ran both of his hands over his face at the memory of seeing Mickey’s heartbroken face after Ian confirmed the end of their relationship. There are some days where Ian wanted to take it back, to not have him hurt so much. Then there are days where he wanted Mickey and anything related to him as far from Ian as possible. The two would be better off if they both weren’t suffering anyway.

Walter and Ulysses kept their eyes on Ian, suddenly growing concerned for their fellow patient as he pondered over his next few words. With a final gulp, Ian started to tell his story. “I had a boyfriend before I came here,” Ian started. A pang in the stomach convinced him that this was a bad idea, but there was no going back. “I liked him since our first time together.” God, Ian remembered the simpler times he and Mickey had before everything went to hell.

“He was kinda still in the closet, though,” Ian continued. “He came out in front of his father at this christening for his newborn son. For the first time, I felt like we could actually have a normal relationship. I mean, we were both out, and his piece-of-shit, homophobic dad was in prison, right?” Walter nodded. “Mickey was free for the first time in his life.”

“His name is Mickey?” Walter asked.

“Yeah.”

“He’s named after a Disney character?” Ulysses joked for a moment before Walter slapped a hand against his chest.

Ian’s eyes fell back down to his lap again, intertwining his pale fingers. “There were times where it didn’t feel like we were in a relationship. We would chill and drink beer like we were long lost friends or some shit.” Ian chuckled again. “To think that he was gonna beat me with a baseball bat after rumors went around town that I sexually assaulted his sister, you know?” He paused again. “I didn’t do that, really. I didn’t come out to her back then, so she didn’t know she was gay.”

“No, man. I get it,” Walter responded.

Ian nodded, biting down on his bottom lip. So many memories flowed through his brain, and he hated thinking about every last one of them. This is why he preferred to be in his room and under the covers rather than in the rec room where other people were awake and present. Under the covers, Ian could imagine an alternate world where he wasn’t in a mental institution; he could actually be happy, for once.

“He started to act more like a nurse instead of a boyfriend,” Ian continued, “after I got diagnosed months ago. I kidnapped his baby and somehow ended up in Indiana. I didn’t want to hurt him or anything; I just wanted to bring him to Orlando and show him the fun sights and everything. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?” Neither Ulysses nor Walter responded. “And Mickey’s daily agenda was to check my daily dosages and shit. He wasn’t even the same Mickey anymore. It’s like having another mother or older sister to pester me and shit.”

“What happened after that?” Walter asked carefully.

Ian was still for a second but then replied, “we broke up.” Ian’s eyes closed shut, and his hands clenched against one another, and after a moment to himself, the tension was released in his hands and face. “It’s better off that way anyway. Mickey didn’t deserve to hang around someone who had to spend the rest of his life taking fuckin’ meds to wipe away all of his emotions.”

“But he loves you, man,” Ulysses responded. “You ever thought about that?”

“I think about it every day. That’s the thing. I don’t want to hurt Mickey anymore than I already have. Besides, he was already hurting me by becoming the person that I didn’t want to begin with. Like, why the fuck do you think it’s okay to spoon-feed me? I can pick a damn utensil up myself.”

Walter and Ulysses looked at each other with worry spread on their faces before their eyes returned to Ian’s distressed form. “You know that hyper-sexuality bullshit when it comes to bipolar disorder and stuff?” Ulysses asked.

Ian scoffed. “No kidding.”

“I think before we were admitted here,” Ulysses started, “this guy here would want me in the fuckin’ sack for three times a day –“

“Seriously? We’re gonna talk about our sex life in front of another patient?”

“The dude’s bummed out, man,” Ulysses replied, “and it’s not like I’m going into too much detail, either.” Ian hid a smile at the couple’s banter, and Walter hid his face in his hands as Ulysses continued. “I didn’t have a problem with it first, but then there was that one day where something seemed to set him off. I think he walked through my apartment looking for something to do, and I rejected his offer –“

“Oh, God. Not this one.”

“Yep, Walter, this one.” Ulysses told his boyfriend. “He got angry about getting fired from his job and took it out on me.”

Walter sighed. “I was in the same situation you were in, Ian,” he explained. “I didn’t want anyone controlling my life or any of that shit. So when I found out I got fired from my job, I thought this was God’s fucked up sign of saying that I’m not even capable of being a person.” Walter paused. “I spent hours not even wanting to talk to anyone about it. I showed up at Ulysses’s place at one point, and…well, I wanted sex to take the pain away. Of course, like he said, he didn’t want to do it then –“

Ulysses snorted. “Horny fucker.”

“And that led into a big argument,” Walter continued. “I took all of my anger out on him. This time around, I’m not even denying that fact anymore. My therapist said it was a form of emotional abuse, and when I found out that I was treating him like that, I felt bad about it.”

Ian kept his eyes down as Walter continued his story. “Surprisingly enough, that incident happened during one of the episodes I had. That’s how I ended up here, and then Ulysses followed suit.” None of the boys spoke for another twenty to thirty seconds, processing their small therapeutic session.

“One thing I learned while staying here was to think in the other person’s perspective,” Walter spoke after a while. “You know, like, next time I think about doing or saying something to Ulysses, think about how it was gonna affect him and shit, you know?”

Ian nodded. He didn’t even think about all of that when he broke up with Mickey. Sure, he was thinking about the consequences Ian worried that Mickey would have to face when it came to his bipolar disorder, but he never really thought about how Mickey would react when Ian broke up with him.

He saw it in his face, though. Ian saw it in Mickey’s face the moment after he confirmed their break-up. Ian didn’t have a problem seeing problems that floated on the surface. What he struggled with the most was digging deep inside Mickey’s inner emotions. Ian was able to go through some of those back when Mickey was in the closet; it amazed him how he was unable to do the same thing this time around.

A chuckle escaped Ulysses’s mouth, and he started to imitate a character from some romantic drama. “You hurt my feelings, bro.”

Walter laughed. “Oh did I, bro?”

“Yeah, bro. I think I stained your gym shirt back at home with my fuckin’ tears. I almost turned the place into a goddamn swimming pool.”

Ian chuckled lightly at the couple’s conversation, but his mind was still on Mickey. Now he wanted to go back to the Milkovich house and see if he was there. He wanted to know if he was okay and whether or not they could work out their relationship. Ian wanted to know everything that Mickey knows and more.

More importantly, Ian wanted his boyfriend back.

“Hey, man. Where are you going?” Ulysses asked Ian as the redhead stood up out of his seat. 

Ian wanted to let out some of his tears, but he didn’t want to do it in the presence of other people. “I’m just a little tired. That’s all.” Neither Walter nor Ulysses seemed convinced. Hell, Ian didn’t even feel like he convinced himself, for once he returned to his room, he buried his face in the pillow and silently let out a river of tears.

* * *

The next day, Ian was released from the hospital and welcomed back into the Gallagher household with open arms. After the first hospital stay Ian had experienced, he wanted to make it clear to his family that he didn’t want to be looked down upon like something strange landed on his face. Fiona agreed to grant his wishes and even had a pep talk to the rest of the siblings about it before she and Lip brought Ian home.

The meds still made Ian a little drowsy, so after spending a couple of minutes watching television with Carl and Debbie, he retreated to his bedroom to take a nap. Hours later, he woke up and took in the darkness in his room. His siblings weren’t in the room, and Ian could faintly make out the sunset in between the shades.

Ian rolled over in bed and stared at the clock. It was almost six-thirty in the evening.

Too comfortable to leave his bed, Ian pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and stared at the lock screen. He had changed it months ago after his and Mickey’s break-up and replaced it with a random photo of the Chicago sunrise he got when he used to go out on his early morning runs. Now he doesn’t run anymore. He’s lost any and all purpose for getting up and freely venturing out through the city. Ever since he’s been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, he felt like a bird trapped in a cage, meeting its death sentence.

Ian unlocked his phone and wound up tapping the photo gallery app. He had about 150 photos inside, some of which Ian’s been meaning to delete. Most of these photos were too precious to delete, primarily because they all featured his ex-boyfriend’s smiling face or his sharp, blue eyes. Or even both.

One photo Ian had on his phone was from the day they fucked in the dugouts. They were practically the male Bloody Mary, but Ian didn’t give a shit that day. All he wanted was to have his best friend in his boyfriend again. That’s all he wanted. That’s why he kept the photo for so long: he wanted a physical reminder that his best friend was still there, still willing to burn a fuck ton of cigarettes with his bipolar boyfriend and be as wild as they were in the earlier times of their relationship.

Now every time Ian saw that photo, he wanted to cry. He hasn’t seen that smile in a while. His boyfriend is gone. His best friend is gone. His person is gone. Now every time Ian thought about Mickey, all he could imagine the angry or distant look on Mickey’s face whenever something bad happened between the two of them. All he could imagine was the heartbroken look on Mickey’s face the day they broke up. The image was coming back to bite Ian in the head, and in that moment, he knew he had to make things right.

So Ian threw on some shoes and a jacket and headed to the front door downstairs. When Fiona asked him if he was hungry or not, Ian just dismissed her offer. Food was the last thing on his mind. He just needed to see Mickey.

Ian’s steps got heavier the closer he got to the Milkovich house. He wasn’t even sure if he was allowed back in there or not. The Milkovich family, of course, stuck by each other during any given situation. If one of them felt down, the others brought them back up. Ian could only imagine what they would do if they found out the youngest brother got his heart broken by a fuckin’ redheaded Gallagher.

A few more steps later, and Ian was at the Milkovich house. He decided on knocking at first, but then he realized that the door was open. It reminded Ian of the day he first came here for Mickey, when he stole Kash’s gun from his store. They were so young back then; they had no idea they would turn into two broken adults with relationship problems.

Ian slipped through the front door and closed it gently in the event that any of the Milkoviches were to get startled by him and kick him out. He slowly walked through the living room, checking his surroundings before he called, “Mickey?” No one answered. “Mickey!”

He first poked his head in Mandy’s old bedroom. Svetlana was supposed to take over her room, but she wasn’t in there at the moment. So Ian strolled down the hallway until he got to Mickey’s room. To his surprise, he was in his bed, hiding under the covers as Ian somewhat predicted. There was a broken beer bottle near the foot of the bed, and the ashtray on the night stand was filled to the brim with used cigarettes. Ian hated how much the older man smoked. He never got a chance to tell Mickey that.

“Mickey?” Ian whispered this time, slowly making his way to the bed and sitting on the edge.

For a moment, Ian didn’t receive an answer. It wasn’t until Ian reached a hand over to touch Mickey’s shoulder that the older man started to flinch. Ian removed his hand just for a second, but that was to only hear the sniffles that escaped Mickey’s nostrils. When Ian stood up and walked over to the other side of the bed, he noticed Mickey’s red eyes and tear-stained pillow.

“Mickey?” Ian asked, feeling guilty for making such a strong, amazing person like Mickey feel so depressed.

Mickey bit his lip the moment his eyes laid on Ian’s. He missed him so much, and it’s been biting at him for days. Ever since Ian broke up with him, he didn’t even know if he was welcome back in the Gallagher house or not after he saw Ian last. His relationship with Ian gave him so much courage. He doesn’t have the courage he used to have anymore.

“I…” Mickey stuttered, more tears leaving his eyes. “I thought you’d never come back.”

A lump formed in Ian’s throat. He hated how he treated Mickey now. He looked so terrible, and all of this was Ian’s fault.

Ian leaned closer to Mickey, running a hand through his dark hair and placing a soft kiss to his lips. He partially expected Mickey to either push him away or be in some kind of denial about Ian being here, but Ian didn’t care. He wanted to fix all of the mistakes he’s made, and he wanted to start now.

“No. I’m coming back.”

**Author's Note:**

> This one took longer to post than expected, anon who sent this. But it's here, and I hope you and everyone else liked it.
> 
> Hit me up with prompts, if you wish. My [Tumblr ask box](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask) is still open. Happy reading, everyone. <3


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